Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me concerning
her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been previously awakened,
believed what she said. She exclaimed, "O Linda! Has it come to this? I had
rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. You are a disgrace to
your dead mother." She tore from my fingers my mother's wedding ring and
her silver thimble. "Go away!" she exclaimed, "and never come to my house,
again." Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, that they left me no chance
to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only
answer. I rose from my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not
speak to me; but the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they
scorched me like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How I
longed to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had
ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, I
mustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did I now
close that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager hand in my
childhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard before.

Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master's. I walked on
recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I had
gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on the
stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above me.
How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed by, and
as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over me. I sank
on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to die; but
the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused myself,
and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had been a
friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke soothingly
to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I
could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to
her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I had
been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My friend
advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing suspense passed
before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came at last. I knelt
before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my life; how long I
had been persecuted; th